Tag Archives: Warblers

Another Accidental Big Year: Sneed’s 2022 Recap

FatherSonBirding’s millions of loyal fans will have no doubt noticed a paucity of posts the past few months, and we sincerely apologize, noting the severe nationwide downturn in consumer confidence and the real estate market that this has obviously precipitated. Fortunately, our silence has been a result of good things happening to Braden and me. Braden has been having some exceptional academic experiences during his fall semester at UMaine while I have been kept busy both birding and working on several exciting book projects that have come my way. That said, we’d like to take a couple of posts to wrap up the last few months and, indeed, our entire year of birding. Since Braden is studying for finals, I’ll go first.

Some of you followed my “Accidental Big Year” last year in which I set a new personal best of 352 ABA species during 2021. Believe it or not, I’ve blundered into another accidental Big Year in 2022. How the heck did that happen? I mean, I have definitely underperformed in my home state of Montana this year, notching my lowest total in several years. Fortunately, our trips to New York City and Arizona put me within striking distance. By early October, my count sat at a tantalizing 335 species, only 17 birds short of tying last year’s record, but where would the additional species come from? Some good writing news led to the answer.

This summer, I landed a contract to write about conservation on military bases, with a special focus on Eglin Air Force Base in the Florida panhandle. I chose this base because I spent all of my summers growing up with my father in Pensacola—adjacent to Eglin. Call it nostalgia or a desire to learn more about the area’s species, but I arranged to interview biologists down there to find out what they were doing. First, though, I decided to stop to see my brother in Atlanta, Georgia.

**On my recent trip, I didn’t get photos of my best Atlanta birds, but Tufted Titmice are always a blast to see.**

Honestly, I didn’t know how many new birds I’d see in Atlanta. Migration season was waning, and it was possible warblers and other songbirds had already moved through. In general, they had, but thanks to some intensive studying and tutelage by Braden, I was able to score a number of great birds including a trio of wonderful warblers: Blackpoll, Tennessee, and most exciting, Cape May—a Lifer pour moi.

Leaving Georgia to take up a week-long residence with my stepmother Suzanne and her partner Jim in Milton, Florida, I wondered if I was close enough to top 352 for the year? Unfortunately, I arrived in Florida suffering from my first cold in three years—one I am just now getting over six weeks later. Not how I wanted to begin three consecutive long days of work at Eglin! Nonetheless, I persevered and got a bunch of great information from the base biologists. Oh, and I kept adding up Year Birds! In fact, I couldn’t have asked for a better bird to break my record. As biologist Kelly Jones drove me around teaching me about endangered salamanders, we ran into a group of Red-cockaded Woodpeckers, one of America’s coolest and most unusual birds. These birds became endangered due to the catastrophic loss of longleaf pine ecosystems across the Southeast, but many people have been working to restore both the pines and the woodpeckers. Last I heard, Eglin is home to the nation’s fourth-largest population, but this was the only group I ran into while there.

**Red-cockaded Woodpeckers are the only North American woodpeckers that carve holes in living trees. Apparently, the sap running down the tree trunk helps deter snakes and other potential predators.**

Not wanting to wear out my welcome with Suzanne and Jim, I used the weekend to take a jaunt over to Tallahassee to visit St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. My dad, a professor at the University of West Florida, led many field trips to St. Marks and always raved about it. More recently, Braden and Nick Ramsey, visited the refuge, seeing among other things a lone flamingo that has lived at the refuge for the past four years. I hoped also to see this bird—dubbed “Pinky”—but kept my expectations low.

**I know they’re common, but I love Red-shouldered Hawks, and this is by far the best photo I’ve ever taken of one.**

Upon arriving, I discovered that St. Marks truly is a magical place—a remnant of “Old Florida” with towering oaks and pristine marshes—and my visit got off to a good start with great views of a Red-shouldered Hawk and Yellow-bellied Sapsucker at the visitor’s center. I asked the local naturalist if anyone had seen Pinky the flamingo lately and she said yes, but didn’t know where, so I decided to head down to Lighthouse Pool and work my way back. As I reached the pond, I happened to glance right. There, in the middle of the pond, stood a large orange blob.

“No way!” I exclaimed, braking to the side of the road as I reached for my binoculars. Sure enough, there stood Pinky—America’s most famous flamingo. Full disclosure: Pinky was not the most exciting bird on the planet, content to just stand there and preen when s/he felt like it. Taking a walk along the southern edge of the pond, however, I picked up lots of other nice Year Birds including Reddish Egret, Tricolored Heron, Short-billed Dowitcher, Semipalmated Plover, and more.

**I’m not sure where Pinky got his name, but to me he looked obviously orange. Still, an official Lifer for me, though I did see American Flamingos thirty years ago in Bonaire.**

My visit to St. Marks was far from finished. As I drove back up the road, I thought I spotted a rail at the East River Pool location. I didn’t—and this was not the first time I’d mistaken a Common Gallinule for a rail! Training my eyes out on the pond, though, my heart picked up. Why? Because way out there among a large group of wading birds, I spotted another Lifer: Wood Stork! Along with Roseate Spoonbills, another Year Bird. My Lifer-palooza hadn’t ended, either. Following Braden’s directions I drove to another part of the refuge to hear my Lifer Clapper Rails.

**This is at least the second time I’ve mistaken a Common Gallinule for a Clapper Rail. I do believe they’re closely related, though, so I hope that you, my dear readers, cut me some slack!**

I returned to Montana with a total of 372 Year Birds and have since picked up a few more, thanks to a fortuitous discovery of Montana’s first Long-tailed Duck of the winter, along with the first Bonaparte’s Gulls I’ve ever seen in Missoula County. These and a Horned Grebe now have me sitting at 375, well in excess of my previous ABA Big Year record. My guess is that I’ll pick up one or two more when Braden gets home in a couple of weeks—though what they might be I have no idea. And you know, it really doesn’t matter. While it’s fun to count birds, it’s even more fun to get out and see them and, hopefully, make some new friends along the way. At St. Marks I met several delightful birders to share my adventures with. I hope that as 2022 draws to a close, you all have your own memorable birding adventures combined with heavy doses of peace and friendship.

My Lighthouse Pool checklist.

**Perhaps my biggest score of the year was seeing the first Long-tailed Duck recorded this winter in Montana—and my first male ever. If this isn’t a glorious animal, I don’t know what is!**

In Search of the Wily White-Tailed Ptarmigan, 2022: with VIDEO!

3 Replies

Happy Labor Day Weekend, Everyone! We hope you are not laboring too much and, instead, getting out for some birding. We’ve been “blog quiet” for a few weeks, and that’s no accident. I have been once again driving for Missoula Fire Cache once or twice a week (see Birding by 5-Ton Truck), Braden came home from California & then jetted back to school in Maine, and the birds? Well, they’ve been pretty quiet. During his time at home, though, Braden and I decided on a last-minute two-day intense trip of birding, first to look for shorebirds and then to find a bird I had wanted to see for years. Here is Part 2 of our adventure, Part 1 to come soon. Enjoy!

They were the first birds of the day—a pair of roosting Osprey silhouetted against the indigo dawn sky at the Saint Mary’s entrance to Glacier National Park. We had arrived on schedule after rising at 4:00 a.m. and driving from our Super 8 motel in Cut Bank—the only affordable lodging within a 100-mile radius of Glacier. We had had to get here early, too, as the park’s new visitor policy required a reservation for anyone arriving between 6 a.m. and 4 p.m. Chances are we would have risen early anyway since we faced a long hike and, for me, a lifelong ambition: to see a White-tailed Ptarmigan.

First birds of the day: Osprey at the St. Mary’s entrance. I’m pretty sure that Glacier NP pays these birds to sit here and keep visitors entertained while they endure the long lines into the park!

If this goal sounds familiar it’s because just a year ago, Braden had accompanied a storied group of other birders with the same mission and in the very same location (see Ptarmigan Party in Glacier National Park). Unfortunately, I had been forced to skip that outing because of work obligations—and now was my time to make amends. Entering the park with a handful of other early-rising vehicles, we quickly encountered our only charismatic megafauna of the day—a handsome black bear angling across the road. As the dim light gradually revealed the spectacular peaks around us, we drove for twenty more minutes until we reached the tiny parking area for the Piegan Pass trailhead. After getting ourselves sorted, we set out through forest, savoring our solitude, the crisp morning air, and more than anything, the enchanting smells of Glacier National Park.

Our hike would take us five miles and more than 2,000 feet up to Piegan Pass, a climb I’d always wanted to make but never had, despite spending an entire summer working as a cook in Glacier in 1979. In addition to our primary goal, we had several other targets, some more likely than others: Boreal Chickadees, Spruce Grouse, Black Swifts, Three-toed Woodpeckers, White-winged Crossbills, and any kind of rosy-finch. As we climbed one mile, then another, however, Braden remarked, “It’s quieter than it was last summer.” Still, I didn’t complain. It just felt wonderful to once again be doing a “real hike” with my son in one of my favorite places on the planet. And slowly, a few birds started showing themselves: Mountain Chickadees, Golden-crowned Kinglets, Chipping Sparrows, and to our delight, a pair of Boreal Chickadees (see Are You Ready for the QUACH?).

**A Boreal Chickadee from Braden’s “Ptarmigan Hike” in 2021.**

“Well, we got at least one target bird,” I said, and Braden nodded. As we climbed higher and higher, however, I felt anything but confident that the ptarmigan would be waiting for us. The thing about the White-tailed Ptarmigan, though, is that I was pretty sure I’d seen one before. In 1979, while hiking to Grinnell Glacier, I’d encountered a bird with a chick or two sitting right in the middle of the trail. At the time I felt certain it was a ptarmigan, but I hadn’t been a birder, and forty years on, I had reasoned, “Well, it could have been another kind of grouse.” Bottom line: I had never listed it and felt I still had to earn it for my Life List.

**Grizzly Bear? No. Grizzly, or rather, Hoary Marmot 7,000 feet up.**

After about four miles, we left the last of the trees and could see the trail cutting across more than a mile of rocky slope up to the pass. My body had started to feel the effort and elevation by now, but that last mile passed remarkably quickly—perhaps because we were trying to keep ahead of this older Belgian woman who threatened to put us to shame. Where do these vigorous geriatric European hikers come from anyway??? In any case, we finally reached the pass and before beginning our ptarmigan search, sat on some rocks to enjoy lunch while staring out at one of the world’s most superlative views down the far canyon to the Many Glacier Valley.

**While eating our lunch, we were treated to a glorious gibbous moon “setting” over the rugged cliffs above us.**

After we stowed our daypacks behind some rocks, Braden showed me where they had found the ptarmigan the year before. “They like to hang out right at the base of snow banks with some cover nearby,” he explained. Despite our ultra-hot summer, some snow persisted at the pass and we began making our way along the bottom of the longest, most promising field. After ten minutes, we had discovered a couple of burly marmots and an adorable pika, but no ptarmigan and I began thinking, I guess we’re not going to see them today. I felt disappointed, but kept my positive attitude, focusing on the near-perfect, glorious day and the unparalleled views of Jackson Glacier several miles away. And, of course, I kept looking.

**Even as my hopes for finding a ptarmigan faded, I felt more than consoled by spectacular views of Jackson Glacier several miles away.** **(Our parking area is visible below.)**

Braden had taken a higher route than I and disappeared around a bend. I walked more slowly, scouring every suspicious rock, and wondered if I’d even see a ptarmigan if my eyes happened to land on it. I scrambled down some rough scree to a lower level and started back toward the pass, hopping over rivulets of meltwater trickling over the rocks. I was standing at the edge of a little grotto when I heard a really strange noise coming down from the mountainside above. It was unlike anything I’d heard and I can’t even describe it here, but I wondered, “Could that possibly be a ptarmigan?” I didn’t think so, but hadn’t a clue what else it might be.

**While searching, I heard a bizarre noise from the rocky cliffs above me. “Could it be a ptarmigan?” I wondered.**

Just then, I saw Braden reappear above me and about fifty meters away. “Did you hear that noise?” I called.

“What?” he answered, too far away to hear me.

“Never mind,” I said—just as I happened to glance at the grotto behind me.

And for a split second, I wondered about the powers of wishful thinking. Why? Because not fifteen feet away, two birds walked slowly across the wet gravel. Two White-tailed Ptarmigans!

And they were real.

**How many ptarmigans are in this photo? I’ll forgive you if you at first see only one. I always do! It shows just how wonderfully adapted these birds are to their environment.**

I stared at them for a moment and then whirled to holler, “Braden!”

“Do you have something?” he called back.

I excitedly held up two fingers and pointed behind me. A minute later, we were standing together admiring some of the coolest birds in Montana. The birds—an adult and a juvenile—seemed totally unalarmed by our presence. They gave us the once-over occasionally, but as long as we stayed ten or fifteen feet away, they seemed to have no problem with us. They just walked slowly, picking at the ground for various plant material and invertebrates as we took dozens of photographs and gave each other several hugs. Soon, we spotted a second adult doing its own thing ten yards away. It was a dream fulfilled for me, and perhaps even for Braden since we got to see them together. As we hiked back down the mountain, I felt real satisfaction at having experienced these amazing birds and a sense of peace knowing that they are still up there, high in the mountains doing their thing. I hope that you all get to see one for yourselves one day, but if not, please enjoy this video. It’s the next best thing.

As the gals from Pitch Perfect might say, our day in Glacier proved “Ptarmi-Pterrific!”

Golf and Birding

8 Replies

Welcome to our new subscribers! We appreciate your interest in our adventures and experiences, and hope you feel free to share this post with others. If you’d like to support FatherSonBirding, feel free to order some of Sneed’s books from online stores or, better yet, by through your local independent bookstore. Thanks, and have a great weekend! Next week: more of Braden’s High Sierra adventures!

Did you ever stop to think that the words “golf” and “bird” both have the same number of letters in them? No? Good. It’s a stupid lead to a blog. Plus, golf is a sensitive subject for me. In my mid-thirties, I began playing with friends and found I quite enjoyed it. Sort of. In between the tears and swearing and bouts of hopelessness and low self-esteem. After my golf swing betrayed me once and for all, in fact, I tossed my clubs into the basement to collect dust for the better part of a decade. Foolishness springs eternal, however, and a few years ago I began a ritual of golfing once a year with a buddy—only to discover an aspect of golf I had never before recognized: Birds.

**Many golf courses’ locations adjacent to wetlands and other natural habitats give them a wide range of opportunity for the golfing birder!**

When I golfed in earlier years, Braden and I hadn’t yet become birders. Imagine my surprise, then, when I got back onto the links to discover that birds abounded—at least at Linda Vista Golf Course, my favorite course in the area (and one that happens to have a great cafe). I realized, in fact, that this course could actually be one of the best birding spots in Missoula. The problem? It is challenging to golf and record birds at the same time, and I have to thread a fine line so that my buddy doesn’t brain me with a 4-iron while I’m trying to figure out which kinds of swallows are circling around us. This dilemma, however, gave me an idea—one that I finally carried out last week: to get permission to bird the course sans clubs one morning before the golfers showed up.

Even with the distractions of actually playing a round of golf, I had managed to record 25 species of birds a couple of days earlier. These had included surprises such as Cinnamon Teal and Red-naped Sapsucker. I wonder what I’ll find with more time to study my surroundings? I asked myself as I again headed out two days later.

Given the trees close to the water, Wood Ducks made sense for the golf course, but Ring-necked Ducks?

Almost immediately, it became evident that there were greater numbers of birds than I had noticed before. The Yellow Warblers were particularly insane with a new one spouting off every twenty or thirty yards—about the distance of a short pitching wedge. This made sense because part of what made this course such a great birding spot is that it was shoe-horned between river and wetlands on two sides and farm/pasture on another. Along with the Yellow Warblers I noted an abundance of Red-winged Blackbirds and Gray Catbirds—but was also surprised by an absence of Common Yellowthroats and dearth of Song Sparrows. Hm . . . maybe they were just quieting down for the season?

**Spotted Sandpipers are always a welcome sight—though I’m not sure the plastic sheeting around this pond made it a great choice for this bird.**

Continuing around to the third hole, I came across several open ponds where I was pleased to see at least seven Wood Ducks, Killdeer, a Spotted Sandpiper, and a pair of Ring-necked Ducks, an unlikely find for the time of year. One of the delights of birding a place that doesn’t get much attention is the frequency of red “unreported” dots that appear on the eBird checklist. The Killdeer were unreported and while I was logging species on eBird, another unreported species, Double-crested Cormorant, flew by. I devoted a good ten minutes to figuring out swallows and quickly noted Tree and Northern Rough-winged. As my binoculars pin-balled back and forth, however, I made another great discovery: Bank Swallows! Braden and I love finding these because they always seem to pop up when we least expect it, and this morning they followed tradition!

**Double-crested Cormorants were one of several species that earned me a coveted red “Unreported” dot on eBird!**

The rest of my birding round yielded nothing that will upend the scientific community, but proved mightily enjoyable nonetheless. While talking to the lone golfer out this early in the day, I spotted a gorgeous male Western Tanager. A Bullock’s Oriole also flew by. Over on the pasture side of the course, Eastern Kingbirds abounded and Cliff Swallows replaced the Bank Swallows zooming around me. I finished the day with 33 species—not dramatically more than I had found while actually golfing, but I had savored every tee, fairway, and green.

**One of the fun things about my round of birding was the number of juveniles about—including this young Eastern Kingbird waiting to be fed by a nearby parent.**

Speaking of golfing, I did notice an odd phenomenon while doing the round with my buddy two days earlier. I actually played better than I had in recent memory. It may have been that I had forgotten my bad habits, but I think that the birds actually helped. One of my problems with golf is that I overthink everything. Instead of just hitting the ball, I am telling myself Remember to tuck in your hip as you draw back or Keep that left foot planted and your elbow straight. With half of my mind on birds, I didn’t have time to do that—and hit some of my best shots in years. The lesson? There isn’t one. Just get out there and keep birding, wherever you happen to be.

Note: if you would like to bird your local course, be sure to ask permission—and it obviously wouldn’t hurt if you already golf that course yourself. With the manager, discuss the best time to go out and stay polite even if she/he/they says no. After all, golf courses generally are money-making ventures and they have real customers to take care of. But speaking of that, I can’t help wondering if any particularly birdy courses have considered charging a modest fee to people who would like to bird them? Especially for courses that adopt green practices such as using less water, pesticides, and fertilizers, it might be a great way to earn a bit of extra income while promoting sustainability. Just a thought.

Billings’ Riverfront Park: Montana’s Premier Songbird Hotspot?

2 Replies

Thanks to your enthusiasm FatherSonBirding has garnered more than 1,000 views for the month of June—our best viewership ever! In fact, it’s been very gratifying to watch more and more people get involved in birding, and Braden and I want to let you know how much we appreciate all of you, whether you are a beginning birder or advanced, whether you work to protect birds or simply cultivate an appreciation for them. Whatever you do, keep it up and we will keep sharing our own experiences. As always, feel free to share these posts and encourage others to subscribe. Sneed & Braden

I have to admit that without Braden, birding isn’t quite as much fun. I also don’t see as many birds without his better skills and ears. Still, sacrifices must be made and I continue to seek out birding opportunities wherever and whenever they present themselves. Just such an opportunity arose a couple of weeks ago when I traveled to Billings to be the closing speaker for their first annual Kid Lit Festival. “A-ha,” I thought. “This sounds like a birding opportunity!” So instead of one night, I scheduled the trip for three—with an ambitious birding schedule in the mix. Just for fun, I set a goal of seeing 100 species for the trip, a number I hoped to easily surpass. Friday morning, June 10^th, I set out toward Billings, making several stops along the way, and arrived at the trip’s first real birding destination, Shiloh Conservation Area, mid-afternoon. Though it has been engineered by humans, I’ve always loved Shiloh and have seen many interesting birds there from dowitchers to my Lifer Swamp Sparrow. Today, the surprises included a female Bullock’s Oriole, male Western Tanager, and a Wilson’ Phalarope that didn’t seem to know quite what she was doing there!

**This lone, befuddled Wilson’s Phalarope at Shiloh seemed to be wondering where all the other phalaropes had gone!**

I was even more excited to get up early the next morning and visit Billings’ Riverfront Park, a place Braden and I had birded only once before, but that had netted a rich harvest of songbirds including our first state Ovenbirds and Plumbeous Vireos. I wondered Could it possibly be as good this time? As soon as I climbed out of the car, I got my first indication when I saw my first of 26 Yellow Warblers and 6 American Redstarts, and heard multiple Common Yellowthroats and Yellow-breasted Chats.

**With their weird calls and stunning good looks, Yellow-breasted Chats are always a delight to observe—even if they are no longer warblers!**

That’s not to say that the birding was easy. With the thick riparian canopy, the situation mostly called for ear-birding and with my lousy ears, my skills were put to the test. Nonetheless, using Merlin’s Sound ID to help alert me to what to look for and to help confirm calls that I thought I recognized, I slowly assembled a picture of the birds around me. Thankfully, most of the birds also put in an appearance for visual confirmation, but I’m still sure that I grossly underreported the numbers around me and probably missed one or two species as well.

That didn’t keep me from fully appreciating the diversity and abundance of songbirds, however. I felt especially thrilled to see so many warblers, with large numbers of Yellow Warblers, American Redstarts, Ovenbirds, and Common Yellowthroats.

**On our previous visit to Riverfront Park, Braden and I had gotten only poor, brief glimpses of Ovenbirds, but today multiple Ovenbirds not only sang but popped out for an appearance.**

Merlin also picked up huge numbers of Warbling and Red-eyed Vireos—the latter a lot easier for me to recognize by ear than the former—and eventually I saw both species. I had hoped for Plumbeous Vireo as well, but struck out on that one. I also saw only one Black-headed Grosbeak, though I’m sure many more were around. All in all, I found 34 species and came away thinking that Riverfront just might be the best spring riparian birding hotspot in the state, and I vowed to return every year if possible. Even better, I still had two full days of birding ahead of me as the next day I planned to drive to Bowdoin NWR and then to Great Falls for a visit to Benton Lake.

My Riverfront Park List

**I was surprised to see only one Black-headed Grosbeak at Riverfront, but at least this one posed nicely—if from a great distance.**

Arizona 2022, Part 2: Portal Dreaming

1 Reply

In this post, we continue our account of our return to southern Arizona while on a quest to get Braden to his Big Year goal of 400 bird species. To read the first part of our journey, click here. As always, we appreciate you sharing this post, and if you haven’t already done so, subscribing by filling out the box below and to the right. Enjoy!

After our close encounter with bedbugs, we set off from Safford early the next morning and were pulling into our trip’s first Major Destination by 8:45 a.m. When we had contemplated visiting Portal, Arizona during our 2016 Big Year, we had considered it as “a place to see hummingbirds.” Six years later, we still wanted hummingbirds, but harbored a long list of other targets—including a slew of Lifers and Year Birds that would propel Braden closer to his Big Year goal of 400 species. Driving into town, we blundered into our first. I had pulled over so Braden could get a look at some Phainopeplas (see next post) when I noticed a large-ish bird over in a sage plant. Getting my eyes on it, I saw right away that it was some kind of kingbird—and that it had an extraordinarily large bill! Turns out it was a Thick-billed Kingbird that had been reported around town recently! This Code 2 rarity created great momentum for the day—one that would not diminish until we were snug in our sleeping bags 12 hours later.

**Thanks to Braden’s patient mentoring, I have grown a much greater appreciation for flycatchers, including this Lifer, a Dusky-capped.**

But back to those hummingbirds, it’s true that Portal does have hummingbirds thanks to the many kind people who put up bird feeders, but of equal avian importance is that the town sits at the mouth of a canyon of the Chiricahua Mountains. One of Arizona’s famed “sky island” mountain ranges, the Chiricahuas attract a host of birds from Mexico that are uncommon in the US, from Mexican Chickadees and Yellow-eyed Juncos to Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers and everyone’s Number One target, Elegant Trogons. After grabbing a campsite at Sunny Flat campground, Braden and I set up our tents and, as the day was already warming, decided to drive to high altitudes for our first proper birding session. We had a couple of specific destinations in mind, but as we wound our way slowly up the dirt road, we decided to pull over at a small stream crossing—and are so glad we did! Almost immediately, one of our favorite birds—Painted Redstart—perched over our heads. This was followed by a veritable bird parade that included Hepatic & Western Tanagers, Hutton’s Vireos, Bridled Titmice, Grace’s Warblers, and Dusky-capped and Cordilleran Flycatchers—all birds we had especially wanted to see or hear!

**Painted Redstart was our Bird of the Trip during our first visit to Arizona in 2016. Seeing it again, we agreed it had been an excellent choice!**

After a few more miles, we reached a loose collection of canyon campsites strung out along the road. The canyon held a wonderful mix of conifers and oaks, and in five minutes, we saw two Life Birds: Yellow-eyed Junco and Red-faced Warbler. The Red-faced Warbler is one of those birds that you learn about, but don’t really believe exists until you see it perched in front of you. Not to be out-done, the junco put on a great show for us, often collecting nesting materials at our feet as we burned gigabytes of camera storage photographing it! One bird we searched for and didn’t find was Mexican variety Spotted Owl. “That’s okay,” I reasoned. “I never really expected to see one of those in my lifetime, anyway.”

It was such a beautiful spot that we decided to have a picnic lunch there before moving back to higher elevation, but before we did, we took one last look around for an owl. Braden was trying to photograph a couple of Verdin when I turned and glanced up in a tree—only to be greeted by the unmistakable silhouette of an owl. Braden was saying, “I guess we’re not going to find the owl,” when I casually remarked, “Except that I just found it.” He thought I was kidding, but I pointed up into the tree, and we both fell into a silent reverie that lasted a full fifteen minutes.

**Like so many birds Braden and I have encountered together, this Spotted Owl is one I thought I’d never see.**

If we’d seen nothing else on the trip, that owl would have made the entire journey worthwhile. Nonetheless, we bid it adieu and headed up to a place called Rustler Park. Here, thanks to Braden’s hard work and determination, we found two more Lifers: Mexican Chickadee and Olive Warbler—the bird that isn’t really a warbler, but inhabits its own strange group of birds. Remarkably, our day still had a long way to run.

**If it looks like a warbler, and acts like a warbler . . . well, sometimes it isn’t. This Olive Warbler belongs to its own family of birds, the Peucedramidae.**

Back in Portal, we scoured the bird feeders, and even hung our own feeder in our campsite, netting yet more Lifers: Scott’s Oriole, a bird at the top of my “to see” list, and Blue-throated Mountain Gem, a gorgeous hummer that came right to our camp feeder! As the shadows deepened over Cave Creek Canyon, however, we had one more very special treat in store for us. Grabbing our flashlights, we set off in darkness down Cave Creek Road, listening intently for a trio of nighttime denizens. We heard the haunting call of the Mexican Whip-poor-will, followed quickly by Whiskered Screech Owl, and finally the “bark” of Elf Owls! Standing together, listening to these magical sounds truly was one of our most memorable birding experiences ever and one that we will both cherish as long as we draw breath. The same can be said for the entire day.

Even better, two full days of Arizona birding remained. Would they include, say, an Elegant Trogon? Stay tuned . . .